Weak
by Just A Little Bit Dramatic
Summary: You’d think after a while the pain would go away. Not the pain of death, but of loneliness. My name is Susan Pevensie. Some would call me beautiful, some would call me kindly, some would even call me spiteful but the name I long to hear again is gentle.


**I do not own Narnia or anything in it. Thought I'd finally go back and post disclaimers for my early stuff.**

You'd think after a while the pain would go away. Not the pain of death, but of loneliness. My name is Susan Pevensie. Some would call me beautiful, some would call me kindly, some would even call me spiteful, but the name I long to hear again is gentle.

My whole life, I've tried to fit in. Peter and Lucy had a special bond, as did Edmund and Peter. Even Edmund and Lucy had a bond, but no one wanted me. I was too…logical. I was always the least favourite sister.

Sure Lucy and I tried to be close. But she needed something more. Maybe a personality, and I had nothing to offer in that category.

Edmund and I were close in Narnia. He and I used to spend many a day in the library, telling each other about a new fact we'd learnt. And Edmund was the one to accompany me to see Rabadash. I was closer to Edmund than I was to the others and had he been older, some might have called us twins. But still we didn't have that bond the others had.

Peter was the person I wanted to be close to. I didn't see him as an older brother, but an equal. I tried my whole life to be Peter. Brave, protective, charismatic and…magnificent. But we had fights constantly. I knew he favoured Lucy. He just was happier to be with her than with me. Who wouldn't be? And in battles, he and Edmund had to be standing in front of Lucy while I defended myself. And it had hurt at first, being the odd one out.

Maybe that's why I turned to Rabadash. Because he made me feel like I was needed. But he only wanted my beauty and my kingdom. It had made me feel protected when Peter and Edmund threatened to kill him. I had caught them plotting in the library. And I didn't feel annoyed, though I pretended to be.

When I was crowned Queen of Narnia, I was given the name 'Queen Susan the Gentle'. Does gentle mean weak? I never went in battles, I just…hated death. I only fought when absolutely necessary. And when my _younger _brother and sister went off to battle with my older brother, I hated myself for being too afraid to go. I'd cry myself to sleep at night, hating how weak I was.

But after Narnia, things went back to normal. Lucy was the one who could wrap everyone around her little finger and I was the least favourite. Mum and Dad always wanted me to be the grown up. Mum said that I'd be beautiful when I grew up and needed to marry well. I suppose that was the first reason I started to forget Narnia.

Then we were brought back. To Narnia, I mean. I remember Peter comforting me in the ruins of Cair Paravel. That was the only time anyone was on my side that trip. And the only time I received praise was when I shot the apple and did what the others needed me to. Win. And I do admit I was horrible to Lucy. But I was so angry.

Why should Aslan reveal himself to her and not me? It was always Lucy, I mean, I cried over his dead body too. But I've always been the one looked over. Unless they did a double take at my appearance, that's the only way someone looked at me. They never looked past the face.

That's when we found out. Peter and I could never return to Narnia. I remember breaking down and sobbing on the train to school, while Lucy slept. I tried to forget Narnia. Forget the pain that had been so cruelly inflicted on me. But it always found a way back. And I didn't think I'd ever be free.

The next time we all got together, all Lucy wanted to talk about was Narnia. At first, I gave in and participated. But after hearing all the stories where Lucy, Peter and Edmund battled while I waited on the sidelines, I started to wonder. Maybe Narnia wasn't real. If I was never around then maybe I was never there. Maybe…maybe they had made it all up. That was when I started to forget. I started to forget Aslan. Forget happiness.

After we got back from America, Lucy and Edmund told us they had been back to Narnia. Peter was ecstatic, but that was when I snapped. I told them to grow up. I told them I didn't believe in Narnia, that it was all rubbish. Then I had run out of the room. Lucy had been reduced to tears, and Edmund had comforted her.

Peter had followed me; he had been the only one to see my tears as I sobbed. And he had told me that he had his own doubts, but he tried to convince me that even though it seemed like a dream, it had been real. God, I'd wanted to believe him. But it hurt too much. Then, they all stopped talking to me. Every single one of my siblings had left me alone. And so, I'd turned to my friends.

I became one of the popular girls after I got back from America. Every girl wanted to be like me, have my hair, my eyes, and my body. If I wore a plaid skirt, blouse and blazer, you could guarantee five more girls would be wearing the same tomorrow. I never said a nasty word to any girl, but I was invited to every party. I was asked out by every guy in my class and others besides.

Of course, I longed for Peter and Edmund to punch any guy who asked me out. To make me feel protected. They never did. But they did it for Lucy. I started wearing make-up too. Only a tiny bit, neat and tiny. It accentuated my face and made me look older. But still, no one commented on it. I just wanted to be noticed, so I tried everything. But it never worked.

Years later, I was begged to join them in a final attempt to return to Narnia. I refused and screamed at them, pouring my heart and soul into my tantrum. They ended up hanging up on me and I stood there, clutching the telephone and trembling with unfallen sobs. Little did I know my angry words were the last they'd ever hear from me.

I heard the news a few days later. At first I denied it, refused to believe. But no. I'd never see them again. I wanted to cry, I willed myself to cry but I couldn't. The same way I couldn't believe. I was weak. I disgusted myself. And Queen Susan the Gentle was dead. Susan Pevensie of Finchley had killed her.

Maybe I didn't cry because I'd already lost my family. Even as their hearts throbbed and their lungs burned for air to survive, they'd been gone.

**I edited it! Finally! Anyway, off to edit another!**

**Just A Little Bit Dramatic**


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